Clueless By Night
by Gawaine
Summary: COMPLETE. Harry's run into an unexpected Weasley in the streets of London. Loaded with humor, undead, and humor about the undead.
1. A Weasley Found

**Clueless By Night**

Disclaimer: Inspired by multitudes of Vampire fiction and games, but without a direct cross-over to any of them. The planned sequels are not cross-overs to any particular TV show or game, but I won't completely rule them out for the far future.

Summary: An unexpected Weasley shows up in Harry's neighborhood, needing help. Can the arrival of the undead, destruction of his flat, and an Auror investigation kick Harry back into action? Or will he succomb to the evil crossover or the Monty Python references first? Ships: HP/HG

**Chapter One - A Weasley Found**

When Harry Potter was still in Hogwarts, he didn't seek out danger. He would have been perfectly willing to have let it pass him by, to have what passed for a Normal childhood among Magicals. He didn't ask to have his teachers try to kill him. He would have gladly avoided dueling Dark Wizards in graveyards. Whenever he had a choice, he avoided danger and excitement, unless there was no other choice. Unless he was the only one that could do something.

Harry reflected on this, as he rushed into the darkened alley in Muggle London. He wouldn't normally have run into this type of situation. The Muggles that he had seen walk down the alley were wearing leather and silver, sporting nose studs, multiple earrings, and lip piercings, and Merlin knew what else. Harry hadn't doubted that they were up to no good, but it wasn't his problem.

Until he had heard the scream. It was high-pitched and piercing. Harry hadn't heard a scream so shrill since the time before the death of Voldemort, when he witnessed more than one Cruciation. It was not the type of scream that he could ignore.

Running into the darkness, Harry winced at a memory, of him entering a darkened graveyard with someone who could have been a friend, had he not died soon after. "Wands out, you reckon?" he whispered to himself, as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve.

Harry must have struck an interesting figure. He was athletic, the result of years both during and after Hogwarts under Oliver Wood's slightly demented leadership. While Quidditch wasn't the most athletic of sports, Oliver insisted on his team keeping in great shape, in addition to using push-ups and lap running as a punishment for slacking off.

Harry's black-rimmed glasses had been replaced by wire rims, at the insistence of the Cannon's press agent, who felt that the team's star player deserved to look like he could afford more than the cast-offs of Muggles. Harry had worn the old rims for so long that he could scarcely recognize himself in the mirror, but the reactions of his friends had proven that it wasn't a bad thing.

His clothes were a change from Hogwarts as well. Harry spent most of his spare time in Muggle cities, avoiding the press of Magicals who were after the Boy Who Lived. He wore robes when he was home, but had exchanged them for Muggle clothing, jeans and a black button-down shirt.

The athletic figure, well dressed, would not have looked out of place in any Muggle city, if it weren't for two things; he was running towards trouble, and he had a wand in his hand.

In the dim light of the alley, Harry could barely make out the figures. There were two on the ground, but three standing over them. This was scarcely a fair fight. Harry grinned, the feeling that he could make a difference suffusing him with satisfaction. He pointed the wand carefully at the middle one, and whispered, hoping that a little power would be enough. "Stupefy."

A beam of light shot from his wand, hitting the middle attacker. At first, Harry wondered if it had even noticed. Then he realized that it had. It turned to look at him, and Harry stared at Death, if only figuratively.

He wasn't sure what about the figure he found frightening, but the pointy teeth poking out from beneath puckered lips were probably up there on the list. So was the black lipstick. He couldn't tell if the attacker was male or female, but it was clear that it wasn't human. It had no figure to speak of, but neither did its two friends. Its hair was died white-blonde, and cropped so close to the skull that it might as well not have been there. Harry wasn't sure why he was noticing these features, since they were much less important than the teeth.

The three were smiling at him. He supposed that with teeth like that, they probably couldn't frown much, since they'd cut themselves to ribbons. The middle one spoke. "Another who thinks he can play with magic. His lordship will be pleased." They advanced on him.

To heck with subtlety. He pointed his wand at the middle one again. "_Incendio_!" His voice was more forceful, and there was more magic behind it. Flames reached from his wand to the creature. It growled at him and jumped, but Harry wasn't there.

Reflexes honed from years of avoiding Bludgers might not have made Harry an expert in unarmed combat, but he was pretty good at avoiding large incoming objects. He rolled out of the way, keeping the wand pointed at the creatures. He noticed that one of them held a shotgun, and figured that was important to deal with. "_Expelliarmus_!" The shotgun was out of the attacker's hands.

Then he was back to using _Incendio_.

One wizard versus three of these creatures didn't appear to be very fair odds. Three of these Vampires, he admitted to himself, finally considering the word. They had reviewed those dark creatures back at Hogwarts, but he had never seen one. At the time, he had wondered if perhaps they were given a bad name, if they might be like Werewolves, just people who were under a nasty curse, but were otherwise just as good or evil as anyone else. He might have to revise that thinking.

Claws raked at his left arm, and Harry laughed. "Be careful! You're about to get on Oliver Wood's bad side. He doesn't like people messing with his Seeker."

Harry saw one of the two victims stand up at the end of the alley, and go for the shotgun. Harry wasn't too familiar with Muggle firearms, but he knew enough to know that he didn't want to be anywhere near it. Harry pointed his wand up towards the roof of a nearby building, and a rope shot out of it. He'd practiced this for the World Cup against America's Quidditch team, who had a reputation for knocking the Seekers off their brooms.

As the shotgun came up, Harry concentrated, and the rope tightened, pulling him off the ground. BLAM...BLAM...BLAM, three shots rang out in quick succession. Harry was gratified to see that each of the three Vampires had fallen, and he landed back on the ground.

They were already starting to move again.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" The man with the shotgun snapped. He looked nervous, rather than angry. "Finish them off, quick." Harry thought he looked familiar.

Harry pointed the wand at each one in turn, putting what was left of his energy into each. "_INCENDIO_!" Where his earlier spells had been only marginally effective, he seemed to be having rather more effect now - if you could call burning them down to ash more effective. He had to keep repeating to himself that they were already dead to silence the voice inside that was screaming for sanity.

When the last one was done, he looked up. The woman who had collapsed at the end of the alley was now standing by the side of the man, one arm around his waist, the other hand playing with his long red hair. She seemed to be whispering something to him. She was shorter than he, just barely over five feet tall, with cascading blonde hair. Both of them were wearing mostly black, although in a much more tasteful way than their three now-ash assailants had. The man wore black jeans, and a black button down shirt with a collar. The woman wore a black skirt, a pair of black leather boots, a black leather jacket, and a white blouse, which was mostly covered with blood.

The man shook his head, and Harry suddenly realized who he looked like. It had been years since he'd seen him. "Charlie?" Harry asked.

"You've grown. Good thing you mentioned Oliver, Harry, or I'd never have recognized you. You don't have to worry, Tracy, he won't give us away. He's an old friend of the family."

"Good God, Charlie, we all thought you were dead."

"Well, Harry, there's no easy way to say this." Charlie's grin showed rather more tooth than necessary. "You were right."

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Harry wasn't sure why he let Charlie and Tracy follow him back to his flat. The stock of the shotgun had been treated to another "_INCENDIO_" to remove any traces of fingerprints, and with the three Vampires down, there wasn't any immediate danger that he could see. His rescuees still looked frightened, though, and Harry felt some sense of responsibility.

He hoped that was all it was. Harry had heard legends that Vampires could affect the mind of the weak. He'd been concentrating on his Occulomancy the whole way back to the flat, but he hadn't found any sign of influence. He settled for believing that he was just helping because he was Harry Potter, and he couldn't leave a Weasley out in the cold.

They didn't speak during the walk. Charlie had advised him to pretend that they weren't there, in case they were being watched. He said didn't want Harry caught up in his business. It was probably too late for that, Harry thought, grimly.

When they were all snug in the flat, Harry turned to them. "All right, I'd say to make yourselves at home, but I'm fresh out of type O. What's going on?"

He didn't like the way that Tracy was looking at him, like he was something to be gobbled up. It was a little like the way some of his fans looked, especially the female ones, after a particularly good save, but it had unpleasant connotations in her case.

She looked up at Charlie. "I'm not going to be the one that breaks the Seal."

Charlie inhaled. "There's not a lot I can tell you, Harry."

"How about you start with -- where have you been? You know that's where your Mother will start."

Charlie winced. "Let's leave her out of this for now."

Tracy snickered. "Don't tell me the great Charles Weasley, creature of the night, is still afraid of Mommy?"

Harry and Charlie both looked at her, but Harry spoke first. "You've obviously never met Molly Weasley."

Charles laughed in agreement. "I'd almost forgotten how good she was at writing a Howler. Anyway, Harry, do you mind if we stay here tonight?"

Harry shrugged. "It's fine with me. There's an extra bedroom on the inside, if you can call it that. No windows, no skylight, so you're fine there. I'm not providing refreshments, though. And you still have to answer my questions."

Charlie nodded. "That's alright. We've both eaten already tonight." He didn't seem to be eager to volunteer information, though.

Tracy spoke up. "I know I said we shouldn't tell him anything, but is it fair to involve him this way?"

"What do you mean," Harry asked. "Involve me in what? I'm not offering to be your landlord forever, just giving you a place to shack up for the night. Or the day, in this case."

Tracy stared at him. "I should warn you. You're in grave danger."

Harry looked back. "Me? I'm in grave danger?"

Charlie nodded solemnly. "That's right. If word gets back to the people behind the attack tonight, they might end up sending more people after you. Especially if they think you know anything."

Harry started laughing.

Tracy stood, her hands on her hips. "This is no laughing matter."

Harry looked at her, then back at Charlie. "She doesn't know much about me, does she?"

Charlie shook his head. "She's from Canada. She didn't even know she had any Magical powers until after she was turned, although she tried enough. There aren't many of us across the pond, although I'm not sure why."

A loud shrieking, something that Harry thought sounded like the wail of an undead spirit, cut into their discussion. Tracy and Charlie looked at each other with alarm, but Harry waited patiently. It sounded for almost ten minutes, during which they couldn't talk at all, but they took their cue from Harry, and just stood, waiting.

"It's just my neighbor's Volkswagen," Harry said. "It does that sometimes. Probably why I can afford my rent." Harry looked back at Tracy, and continued where they had left off. "It's been a while since anyone's tried to kill me, and I don't really miss it, but I owe enough to the Weasley's that I'd never turn one of them out, even if he is dead, just because there's someone who might try to kill me. The only way I'll turn him out is if I don't get some answers."

Tracy sat back down. "Well, there's a lot that we can't tell you. As to where he's been..."

Charlie continued for her. "I've been in Canada. It's a great place to be a creature of the night. With all the Goths and Vampire wanna-bes, no one ever thinks what someone who dresses normally might be, even if he doesn't come out during the day."

Harry let him continue. "I was turned about three years ago. There was a Vampire who was fascinated with magic. She'd never really interacted with the Ministry, didn't realize that there were so many of us, and when she saw me cast a spell, she figured I was something special." Charlie smiled, self-deprecatingly. Harry saw Tracy rolling her eyes.

Charlie was still talking, though. "I can't say why I followed her back to her place, but she ended up turning me. She expected me to teach her magic once I was one of her kind. She didn't realize that you can't just teach it to someone without the ability, and she got pretty mad at me for not being able to do anything about it. Anyway, I managed to get away from her, and that's when I wound up in Canada."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. But why are there Vampires out to kill you? Did you forget to pay your dues or something?"

Charlie nodded. "Something like that. I can't say much... it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that the few people who are on my side would feel they had to kill me if I said anything."

"I guess I can't argue with that."

Tracy looked up, suddenly, as if she'd heard something. "It's almost time."

Charlie nodded. "Thanks for letting us stay in your place, Harry. We'll see you after dark."

Harry nodded back, and walked them to the bedroom. It was a glorified closet, but they seemed fine with it. He closed the door after them, and heard them lock it. He decided that they probably had the right idea, and went back to his room, locking and warding the door before trying to get some sleep.


	2. Relationships

**Chapter Two - Relationships**

Harry incinerated his alarm clock during its attempt to wake him up that morning. He'd only been asleep for a few hours, but he was already late for morning practice. Oliver was going to kill him.

Rewinding that thought, Harry was amused. It was a sign of how simple his life had become that the anger of his Quidditch coach seemed a more real danger than death by enraged vampires. In his youth, he probably wouldn't have thought that way.

Well, he wasn't in his youth anymore. He showered quickly, before pulling on his uniform and Disapparating directly to the pitch. He usually left his flat on foot, in case he decided to come back by way of the city. He didn't want to be obviously coming back after not having been seen leaving, but he didn't have time to change into Muggle clothes this morning, let alone to travel to Diagon Alley to Disapparate from there.

He appeared into the pitch in the middle of a pouring rain. He had a sense that the day wasn't going to improve. Charming his glasses quickly, he hunted for Oliver; he knew that the coach would still expect his players to practice, whatever the weather might be.

He found Oliver already in the air. The coach was shouting, "Horos! Shelby! Keep those bludgers flying. You have to hit them harder in this rain! Price! Don't be shy of the Quaffle, you need to keep trying to get it through. It's hard for the Keeper to follow it in this weather." Then he saw Harry. "Potter! Get the Snitch out of the box. You'll be practicing an extra hour today for being late. Shelby! Throw a few of those Bludgers at Potter, to make sure he notices."

Harry nodded. It was no more than he expected. He released the Snitch, and waited a few minutes to let it really get going.

The rain eventually died down. He hadn't really kept track of how many times he'd caught the Snitch before he was alone on the field. He was in his zone, totally occupied with catching and finding the Snitch. He threw in the occasional Wronski feint when it was hiding too well, but didn't look to see if anyone had noticed.

As he caught the Snitch after a breathtaking two hundred foot dive, he was surprised to hear applause. He normally didn't even register the crowd's reaction, but the silence of the now sunny afternoon made the contrast noticeable, at least now that the Snitch was in his hands.

He turned towards the stands, and saw a welcome, if totally unexpected, sight. His own personal cheering section had arrived. Ron was there, dressed in unassuming black robes. He flew swiftly over to him. "It's been a while, Ron, what brings you here?" he called, still perched on his Firebolt.

"Business, or at least that's the excuse I'm using today," Ron called back.

"Let me ask Oliver if I can take a break, and I'll be down to visit," Harry looked around for the coach, but didn't see him.

Ron chuckled. "He left about a half-hour ago. He said you could stop whenever you noticed there was no one else here."

Harry shook his head, "I'll be right down then". He'd been entirely wrapped up in his own little world, unaware of anything that wasn't immediately life threatening. Which brought him back to thinking about his houseguests. Should he tell Ron that his brother had returned - at least most of him?

He wasn't sure, but he could stall that decision for a few minutes. He flew down to the locker room, and stowed his broom. He rinsed under the shower quickly before pulling on a clean set of clothes. He would have to remember to bring an extra set from home again, to replace these.

Leaving the locker room, Harry was struck by how completely normal his life had become. He spent almost every day the same way -- rushing to work, practicing all day, catching some dinner, and then walking around the city for a while. He had been excited, on becoming a wizard, at the ability to stretch out of the ordinary, but since, he'd realized that he had just substituted a new definition of ordinary.

Ron was still standing in the bleachers, waiting patiently. Patience was something that had come with great difficulty to Ron, earned during his last days at Hogwarts. Harry knew that beneath the placid face of his friend was still someone capable of a searing temper, but he'd learned to hide it.

The friends greeted each other with a firm handshake and some simple pleasantries. "Harry, I wasn't entirely joking about being here on business. There was some magic in London last night, a few incendiary charms and some other, more unique spells. One of them was the one you had Hermione teach you last year, remember? There were also three bodies found. Do you know anything about it?"

Harry had been hoping that he could stall telling Ron about Charlie a bit longer, but he foresaw difficulties with this, especially as his open face gave testimony to the fact that he knew more than he was letting on.

Ron interpreted his silence, and looked concerned. "What's going on, mate? We've all been worried about you. Mum's hurt that you didn't even respond to her invitation to dinner tomorrow night. Are you... involved... with anything I should know about?"

Harry saw an out. "Nothing I can explain here, Ron. Is the invitation still open tomorrow night?"

Ron nodded, pleasantly surprised. "Mum said to tell you it was, if I saw you."

"Well, I'll explain it then. Do you think she'd mind if I brought someone?"

Ron lifted an eyebrow. Harry thought they probably trained him in how to do that in Auror school -- it certainly looked like something out of a Muggle detective show. "You're kidding, right? Mum would be overjoyed to see you with someone. And I think Luna would, too. She's getting tired of us being the young couple in the Weasley house."

"Don't get your hopes up. You'll still be ickle Ronniekins to the rest of us," Harry chided his friend, who was almost a foot taller than him. "Besides, this isn't that kind of guest. If he'll come..." Harry almost laughed at the stricken look on Ron's face, but he hurriedly corrected the impression. "No, it's not like that. This is a friend of mine who's in some trouble, and I think it would be best if he explained it himself."

Ron nodded. "I can see that, but do we have to involve the whole family? Mum's still shaken up over Charlie, I don't want her to think the rest of us are into anything dangerous."

Harry shook his head. "No, she needs to hear this. The problem concerns a Weasley, I think you all need to know about it."

"If it's that serious, don't you think you should give me something more to go on?"

"I'll tell you everything tomorrow, OK? So, are Fred and George going to be there?" he asked casually.

"Should be."

"How about Ginny? Is she still going out with Malfoy?"

"As far as I know. She doesn't talk about it with me, much, though."

Harry fell silent, and Ron smirked. "Was there someone else you were going to ask about?"

Harry hesitated, and then asked, despite knowing that he was just giving Ron ammunition. "And Hermione?"

"She's doing pretty well. She was dating a Professor from Oxford for a while, but they broke it off."

"Is she coming tomorrow?"

Ron was trying really hard to draw this out, Harry could tell, and he felt like slugging him. Ron had been trying since Hogwarts to throw his friends together, but it generally had the opposite effect.

Ron shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure. I think you'll just have to wait and find out." He smiled, continuing, "See you then." With a wave of his wand, Ron Disapparated, leaving Harry wondering if he could get away with slugging his friend tomorrow, or if the shock on his face when Charlie walked in would be good enough.

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Ron was glad that Harry didn't know where he was Disapparating to. If he had, he probably would have slugged him. He was in the alley behind Hermione's flat, which they'd warded with a series of Everyday Charms so that no one would see those using it for Apparating.

He knew that it irritated her when he dropped in without calling first, but he thought she'd understand. Or if not, well, he could probably dodge any curse she'd throw at him.

Ron rapped on her door.

A distracted call came from inside: "Yes, who is it?"

Ron tried to make his voice sound deeper. "I'm looking for some information on spew. Could you help me?"

He heard an exasperated growl from inside. Hermione pulled the door open, not looking outside yet. She seemed to still be staring at something back inside the flat. "I'm glad to have more interest, but I must insist that you pronounce it as S.P.E.W., pronouncing each letter in turn. We'll never be able to accomplish our goals unless..." she finally turned. "Ron!"

She looked furious, and he smiled smugly. He loved that he could still get her truly irritated. It was something that had drawn him close to Luna, back at Hogwarts. Luna was capable of driving Hermione to distraction without even trying, and combining her efforts with Ron's had only made sense. "Oh, just get in here!"

She tugged him inside, and Ron brushed off his robes, as if she'd gotten something on them. Her home was a letter from the Ministry waiting to happen, surrounded by Muggles, but packed with unemployed House-Elves. Hermione ran a sort of halfway house, where she helped take care of servants who had recently been let go while they adapted to their new situation. "Some welcome this is," he said, looking at her scowling face.

"Oh, like you have room to complain! So, what brings you here?"

"I wondered if you had reconsidered about Mum's invitation to dinner tomorrow."

"Ron, I really appreciate how she keeps trying to include me, but I'm so busy..."

Ron interrupted, "Harry's coming. He's bringing a friend."

She stopped talking. Ron committed this moment to memory - it was very rare that anyone managed to quiet Hermione. "Really?"

One of the elves piped up. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, now you've got them started."

All of the house-elves were now talking at once, while Hermione tried to get them to settle down. It sounded like Harry was one of their folk heroes, probably due to his near legendary rescue of Dobby.

Ron decided that the time had come to make his exit. "So, we'll see you tomorrow evening then?"

"Yes, yes, of course," she called back.

_Mission accomplished_, he thought to himself, and Disapparated.


	3. Homecoming

**Chapter Three - Homecoming**

Harry had returned to the flat barely before dusk, and was there when they awoke. They looked remarkably respectable given the cramped accommodations. He guessed that Vampires must not need much in the way of creature comforts.

"So, how was your day?" Charlie asked amiably.

Harry shrugged, "Nothing to report. No Creatures of Night hanging around the Quidditch pitch."

"Given that it was daytime, that doesn't mean much."

"Well, still, nothing really new happened today. Except there was one surprise visitor..."

"Yes?" Charlie was attentive. He looked suddenly very dangerous, and Harry was reminded that he wasn't really human any more. Suddenly, a family dinner seemed to be a bad idea. Would Molly thank him for bringing Charlie into her home?

Harry continued with trepidation, "Your little brother, Ron, stopped by. He's invited me to a dinner tomorrow night at your parents' house. I thought you might want to come..."

Charlie shook his head, and the dangerous look evaporated. He was suddenly just another Weasley. "It's too dangerous. I don't want to get them involved with this."

Tracy cut in, softly. "I think you should go."

Charlie seemed surprised. Harry certainly was. Tracy seemed totally unaware of Charlie's ties to England, his family, and even what it meant to be Magical. Charlie responded first, "Why? It's not worth the risk."

Tracy continued quietly, "You haven't let go of them, Charlie, not yet. I don't know if you ever really will. Even though you almost never talk about them, I can see the way you feel when you see a family.

"I don't have that," she continued, "I haven't been able to talk to my Mom since before I was turned. She never really saw me as an adult, and I didn't think either of us could take having her try to see me this way. But I don't think you'll be complete until you see your parents -- even if it doesn't go well, at least you'll know."

Charlie took her deep into his arms, and held her tight. "Come with me?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

He tried to protest, but she put her finger over his lips. Harry felt like he was intruding, but it was his own home. He didn't really have anywhere to go.

Tracy whispered to Charlie, but Harry heard every word in the silence that surrounded them all. "If you take me, then they'll either focus on me as part of the problem, or they'll avoid saying anything because they won't want to make a scene in front of me. If you leave me out of it, at first, then if things go well, you have a good reason for a second visit. Besides, there are good reasons for us not to venture out into public together, right?"

Charlie nodded reluctantly. "We'll need to feed, though, so we'll have to go out tonight."

Harry was relieved that he wasn't on the menu, but Tracy looked at him, grinning. "Well, we don't have to go out."

Harry yelped involuntarily, jumping back. Charlie held out his hands. "Don't worry Harry, she wasn't thinking about that. Even if she was, it wouldn't hurt much." Charlie grinned, and continued, "We've survived off of animals before, and we can do it again. Do you think you can find a few rats?"

Tracy made a sour face. "I hate rats. I eat just one, and then I get hungry a half-hour later. Besides, they wriggle. Maybe a nice Saint Bernard?"

Harry felt himself turning green, and Tracy and Charlie were staring at him. Suddenly, they both started laughing hysterically. "You... should... see your face, Harry!" Charlie guffawed.

Tracy tried to compose herself. "Seriously, we can go a day or two without feeding if we need to, but if you can find anything mammalian, even just a mouse, it would be better than nothing. Charlie had better not be starving when he goes to his Mother's."

Harry nodded, still feeling pretty nauseous. "I'll see what I can do. I don't suppose I can just rob a blood bank?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, it pretty much has to come from a live source, or it doesn't do much good to us. You can't transfigure something to a rat either, it has to start out alive."

Harry shrugged. "Well, it looks like I'm on rat hunting duty, then. I'll be back in a few."

It took Harry more than a few hours to return. Most of the pet stores were closed, and the ones that weren't wanted to know information about him. He finally found one that would sell mice as food for pythons, and which didn't seem to have any scruples about giving him several dozen of them. He got all that he could, and then went home. He was exhausted, and he didn't feel the need to watch them feed, anyway. He said his good nights, and confirmed that Charlie would be ready to leave at dusk the next day, after he got back from practice.

Practice the next day went smoothly, but Harry was a little distracted. It wasn't enough for Oliver to notice, but he felt less able to just focus on his routine. The dinner would probably be a little problematic, but he found himself more worried about Hermione than Charlie.

Harry hadn't realized how long it had been since he had seen her, until he really thought about it. It had been almost a year since they'd last had dinner at the Weasley's. His routine, practicing, playing, and spending time at his flat, had pretty much become his life. Unlike most of the other players, who spent their off time partying, he just used the time to get more exercise or more practice. All in all, boring. And, all in all, very lonely.

Harry envied Charlie Weasley. He might be dead, but he wasn't alone. He had someone who cared deeply for him, that was obvious. He also seemed to have a more exciting life than Harry had, or rather an exciting unlife. Except for tonight, that is.

Harry had to wonder where exactly he'd gone wrong. He'd had more than his fair share of excitement in school, and close friends. Why had he let them all slip away? How could he go for a year without dinner with the Weasleys? He chalked it up to the victory of the routine, of not having to think about his schedule. He blamed it on lack of risk-taking, on not wanting to be vulnerable to the people who could hurt his feelings. Whatever the reason, it had been too long. It was time for a change.

Oliver worked Harry hard, and it was already dark when he got back to his flat. Charlie and Tracy were inside; Charlie looked nervous, Tracy reassuring. "There's nothing to worry about," Tracy said, "They'll be so overjoyed to see you, anything else will be forgotten quickly."

Charlie looked unsure, "How can you know? You've never met them." His lack of confidence aside, he looked like the same Charlie Harry had known before. His hair was back in a long ponytail, its red competing with the black of his robes. He wore black riding boots, and black denim jeans poked out from underneath his robes.

Tracy looked at him solemnly, "Anyone that can raise you can't be totally ignorant about love."

Harry pretended to retch, grabbing their attention. Charlie smiled at him, "Sure, make all the jokes you want to now. Someday, you'll find someone, and we'll pay you back in spades."

"I hope so," Harry said, earnestly. He ducked his head. "Let's get going. Molly will be upset if we're late."

Charlie seemed amused. "You should have worried about that before. You're going with the late Charles Weasley, after all."

Harry slugged him. "So, should we use the Floo, or Apparate?"

"I think my license is probably expired," Charlie said, "They generally don't let dead people keep them."

"The Floo, then," Harry confirmed. He lit his fireplace with a wave of his wand, and pitched in some powder, crouching under the mantle. "The Burrow," he said, and disappeared.

He stepped out of the fireplace, and was immediately swept into a hug by Molly Weasley. "Harry, dear, it's been an age! Come sit down, and wipe the dust off. Did Ron say you were bringing someone?"

"Yes, he's right behind me, or he should be." There was a burst of green flame in the fireplace, and Charlie stepped out. He was greeted by silence.

The quiet moments stretched to almost a minute, until Molly finally broke the calm. "Oh my, Charlie, is it really you?"

He stepped into her arms, holding onto her. "Mum, I've missed you so much."

Harry stood to the side. He felt good for having brought the meeting about, but he worried about how they'd react when they heard the news. He knew that Molly could react out of emotions at times, especially fear, before she had thought things through.

Harry also felt like he was intruding on their moment. He knew that they considered him, in many ways, an honorary Weasley. That meant a lot to him, but he still felt like this was a moment for real Weasleys, and he wasn't one of those, whatever they might say.

As the moment grew longer, Harry let his eyes travel across the other Weasleys. Ron was sitting at the table. He looked stunned at Charlie's return, and he was gripping Luna's hand tightly. He glanced at Harry, and his glance held an intense thanks.

Fred and George were trying to crowd in to see Charlie, but their Mum wouldn't let them through. He didn't see Arthur anywhere; probably still at the Ministry, even though it was a Saturday night. Victory over Voldemort hadn't made things much easier for him, especially after he succeeded Cornelius Fudge as the Minister of Magic.

He also didn't see the one person he wanted to see the most -- Hermione wasn't anywhere to be seen. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Harry's feelings for Hermione were complicated, and lately, he had tried to avoid complication. Still, she had always been one of his best friends, and since Ron had gotten caught up with Luna, she had been the only one who was always there for him.

Harry walked over towards Ron anyway. Ron stood, clasping his hand tightly. "Thanks," was all he could say. Harry hadn't realized just how much Charlie's disappearance had affected the younger Weasley; maybe he hadn't been doing enough listening, either.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked back at him. Ron looked over at the fireplace, then back at Harry. He looked concerned, and tension showed on his face.

"You mean she's not with you?"

"Why would she be?" Harry replied, and he was starting to tense as well.

"We were getting worried. You were later than we'd expected you. She seemed really nervous."

Luna interrupted Ron, "Ron teased her. He told her that you were nervous about her being here, and she decided that she should just go and retrieve you."

Harry looked back at Ron, "Could I have passed her in the Floo?"

"She thought you were probably Apparating. You know, you usually walk to Diagon Alley, and she was going to see if she ran into you."

Harry wasn't sure why her absence worried him, but it did. What would probably happen would be that she would see Tracy, and possibly jump to the wrong conclusion... he could live with that, though. He had a feeling, though, that whatever had happened was worse than that. "I'll go back for her," he said, pulling out his wand. He could just Apparate straight home, no need for the fireplace.

Charlie moved faster than he would have thought possible, grabbing his wrist. "Wait," he commanded. "I'll come with you. Let's use the fireplace."

Molly looked flustered at Charlie's quick desertion, but Ron stood up, looking grim. "I'll come with you, too." Charlie held up his hand in denial, but Ron insisted. "I don't know what you're mixed up with, but I'm not letting you face it alone. Especially if there's a chance that Hermione's gotten involved."

The three used the fireplace, quickly appearing back at Harry's flat. The first thing that Harry noticed was the small red puddle at the foot of his door. Looking up from there, he saw that the door was crooked, not fully flush with the frame. He could see a large crack down the edge of the door, tracing towards the upper of the two deadbolt locks.

There was a dent in the sheet rock on his wall, about five feet up. Cracks radiated out from it, and Harry could tell that the dent had been made by someone's head. Strands of long brown hair, caught in the cracks, made that an obvious guess. Harry's heart quickened. He shook his head, trying to deny what had probably happened to Hermione. He hoped it hadn't been Tracy. He would hate to have to kill Charlie's girlfriend.


	4. Ta Da

**Chapter Four - Ta Da**

Harry heard a sound from down the hallway -- the water being turned on in the bathtub. He started to move towards it, but Charlie was faster. The vampire moved like lightning, his long red ponytail flying up behind him. He was snarling as he tore open the door at the end of the hallway, and Harry thought with curious detachment that he was glad that he could repair the place with magic, since otherwise he had little hope of seeing his deposit again.

Harry heard a shriek from the bathroom, followed by the sounds of a brief combat. Before he or Ron could react, it was over, and Charlie was returning from the bathroom, a rueful look on his face. "Tracy says that she didn't see Hermione. She'll be out in a minute. Sorry about the door, Harry."

"That's alright," Harry responded, trying to be nonchalant. He was trying to gauge Ron's reaction - he could scarcely not notice that Charlie's robe was now torn, rent as if by claws, or that the flesh beneath was healing before his eyes.

Ron had, in fact noticed the changes. His eyes were wide. Harry saw his hand edging towards his wand. He looked between Charlie and Harry. "Is there something that one of you would like to tell me?"

Charlie was staring at the floor, not meeting his brother's eyes. "It's kind of hard to explain, Ron."

"Would this have anything to do with the three bodies worth of ash we found in an alleyway near here?" Ron was channeling his anger at being left in the dark into his professional persona. Harry preferred him when he was acting all emotional, it was much easier to duck a question during those times.

Charlie hedged, "It might."

Tracy contradicted him, entering the room, with a towel wrapped around her hair and another around most of the rest of her. "It does," she said, flatly. She met Ron's eyes, unapologetically staring him down, almost challenging him. "You must be Charlie's brother Ron."

"Yeah, that's me," Ron answered, his voice sounding slightly slurred. His body seemed unusually erect, as if he was being held up by strings.

"What are you doing to him?" Harry questioned her.

"Just making sure we don't have a problem," she answered.

"We don't," Harry said sharply, "but we will if you do anything to my friend."

She shook her head, and Ron blinked, suddenly looking more awake. "Sorry, I'm just on edge."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"One of Carnifex's goons came to the door. He said he had a message for Charlie, and he wanted to give it to him in person. He seemed very surprised to see me, and even more surprised when I gave him a little message of my own."

"Where is he?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know the answer to that question. His clothes are in the trash bag over there, they're not in any shape to do anyone any good."

"What do you mean, I don't want to know?"

Ron held out his hand. "Just leave it, Harry. You really don't want to know. There's only one good way to get rid of a corpse in a flat in the city."

"You mean incinerating him?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Transfiguring him into a squirrel?"

"Just leave it. Among the best ways of getting rid of a corpse is to use your plumbing."

Harry suddenly looked green. "You were right, I didn't want to know."

"So, what was the message?" Ron asked.

"I'm not sure," Tracy admitted. "I'm afraid I kind of tore his throat out before we got to that part."

"Kind of?" Harry responded.

"You don't want to know," she said flatly.

"Fair enough," Harry answered. He had learned his lesson.

"Then what's that?" Charlie asked, pointing towards the floor near Harry's couch. Harry crouched down. He could see a black glossy envelope with a red embossed crescent moon on it, sealed with red wax in the shape of another moon.

"I'm guessing it's for you," Harry said, ironically. "Incidentally, what is it with you folks and black?"

"It's tradition," Charlie answered.

"Since when have you been into tradition?" Harry parried in response.

"How about if I said that blood doesn't stain most black clothes."

"That actually makes sense. Are you going to read it?"

Charlie shrugged, "I suppose I might as well." He tore it open. "You know, it's a real waste, the way these people operate. Nice paper, candle wax, just to deliver a one-sentence note that could have come from a mob show. You'd think they could have come up with some poetry, at least."

"What does it say?" Harry asked.

Charlie held it up. In truly beautiful, if hard to read, gothic calligraphy, it said, "We have your woman."

"Well, that shows what they know," Tracy spoke up. "I'm right here."

Harry and Ron didn't look relieved by this, and Charlie spoke the truth that they were both thinking. "Hermione."

Tracy turned pale. "If they have your friend, it won't take them too long to figure out that she isn't me. When that happens, she'll be..." she trailed off.

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry looked back at him, speaking before either of the vampires. "I don't think we want to know."


	5. Finding Hermione

**Chapter Five - Finding Hermione**

Charlie quickly changed out of his robes into a leather jacket, while Ron used the Floo to call his parents. He didn't give them many details, and Harry winced at the shrill sound in Molly's voice as Ron cut the connection. Someone would be getting a Howler tomorrow -- he hoped it wasn't him.

Harry looked at Charlie and Tracy. "Alright, then. Where would they be taken?"

Charlie looked embarrassed, "I'm not sure. Carnifex isn't one of us; I mean, his lair isn't one that we know."

"Well, where can we start?" Ron asked. "Should we try near the downtown blood bank?"

Harry snapped, "No, they can't use blood from there. It has to be taken live."

Ron looked a little disturbed, "I'll take your word for it, Harry. I don't really want to know why you know that, do I?"

Harry shook his head, "So, this Carnifex, do you know anyone who might know where he lives?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm not sure. Look, I'm going to have to tell you some things that are supposed to be secret. Don't spread them around, OK?"

"Or what?" Ron challenged.

Harry started to answer him, "You don't..."

Tracy looked at him crossly, "Don't start that again. Look, if Charlie feels he needs to break the Seal of Secrecy, that's his lookout -- if it ever comes out that he's done it, though, he'll be killed."

Charlie nodded, "And if it ever does come out that I've said anything, don't let on that Tracy was anywhere near the scene. Got it?"

The non-vampires in the room nodded, and Charlie continued, "So, here's the thing. There are two kinds of vampires running around here; we belong to one, Carnifex the other. We usually just leave each other alone, since open war between the groups of vampires might end up being noticed. Tracy and I, though, seem to have gotten on Carnifex's bad side. I'm not going to say why, right now, it's not important."

"What makes his kind different from yours?" Harry asked.

"Ours have a fairly rigid code of honor, which includes not killing humans except in self-defense, not doing anything that will make the papers, and generally trying to get along."

"And them? No 'code'?" Ron guessed.

"No, they have a code alright," Tracy scowled. "It's just not as nice as ours."

"Let me guess," Harry interjected, "They don't try to get along."

"That pretty much sums it up," Charlie agreed.

"So, do you know anything about their group that might be useful?" Ron asked, trying to keep the discussion moving.

"Well, they don't tend to recruit Wizards," Charlie said, brainstorming, "and they like live entertainment. Well, it always _starts_ live."

"How about their territory? Is there somewhere that they would generally hunt? Do they have some kind of uniform, like street gangs?" Ron kept prodding.

"Well, not a uniform, exactly, although the ones in Britain all have tattoos on their shoulders."

"That'll help," Ron said sarcastically.

"Well, on territory... they like some of the up and coming neighborhoods. More single people, people who have unpredictable habits."

Ron snapped his fingers; "There have been a few cases at the office lately, Witches who have disappeared from one Muggle neighborhood. We were suspecting Dark Wizards, but they hadn't left any magical traces."

Charlie nodded, "That could be it!"

"Let's go," Harry said, "We don't have anything else to go on."

Ron nodded, "Wait just a moment." He Disapparated.

While he was gone, Harry and the others tried to think of anything else that would let them find Hermione. They couldn't come up with any other ideas, though. The waiting seemed unbearable, and when Ron finally showed up, Harry was stunned to see that he'd only been gone for fifteen minutes.

Ron opened the small box that he held. "When we touch this, we'll be brought back to the flat that the last Witch lived in. I figure we can go from there."

Harry nodded, and they all reached in together. Ron whispered, "Don't worry, Harry, she'll be alright."

The familiar wrench as reality twisted around them made Harry gasp, but he quickly drew his wand in their new location, looking around for danger. They were in a dark, dusty room.

"She disappeared last week," Ron said quietly. "Didn't show up for work. Her neighbor took care of her cat -- said she loved that cat, would never have just left it. We don't think she's coming back."

Harry froze, as he saw a picture on the mantle. "Isn't that...?"

Ron nodded, sadly, "Katie Bell. I hadn't wanted to mention it."

Harry remembered Katie fondly from Hogwarts, one of the three Chasers on the team when he joined it. "I can't believe it."

"Well, if Carnifex is behind this, we have another reason to make him pay."

"You can't," Tracy said. "We need to get Hermione, and get out, and hope they don't know we did it. If mortals get involved, all of the vampires, both his and ours, may decide they need to hush us all up."

"Let's table the doom and gloom," Ron said, "I'm sure I can worry enough for all of us. Let's just see if we can find anything."

They left the flat quietly. Ron pointed out the way to the homes of the other two that had disappeared. "We were focusing on the pub up at the corner. We've established that all three of them stopped there on a regular basis."

"No," Charlie said. He pointed to a park, nearby, which looked dark and menacing. "It would have been there."

"There's no way Katie would have gone in there," Ron said impatiently. "She knew about the other two disappearing -- she knew not to go anywhere that there weren't people. We're surprised she was even walking, instead of Disapparating."

"She may not have walked," Charlie said. "There's a clear view from the park to her window. And, unless I miss my guess, to the windows of the other two."

"That's enough?" Harry asked.

"Doesn't anyone read the classics anymore?" Tracy interjected. "It's straight out of Dracula."

"Forgive me," Ron said, "I don't think the Vampire Book Club met at Hogwarts."

"You might be surprised," Harry said. "There were a few Slytherins that probably could have quoted you chapter and verse. I wouldn't be surprised if Dracula was one of them, originally."

"Vlad?" Charlie responded, "No, he went to Durmstrang. That's beside the point, though. Yes, a vampire could have lured them to the park, if they had the right set of skills."

Ron's voice was so quiet, it was almost a squeak. "They aren't still there, are they?"

"Something's there," Charlie said, equally quietly. "Follow me."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and each quickly cast a Disillusionment on the other. Charlie and Tracy didn't seem to notice, but they almost blended into the background.

Harry couldn't see anything. As far as he could tell, the whole park was abandoned. He followed Charlie and Tracy, though, with some difficulty, to a park bench. It was under two lights, both of which had burned out bulbs. No, smashed bulbs; Harry could see the broken glass on the ground. He had an almost overwhelming sense of evil. There was a faint noise that he couldn't quite identify, but it nagged at him, like he was missing something.

Suddenly, Charlie's hands shot out and pulled. It looked like he was grabbing into empty space, but his hands were occupied.

His prisoner was mewling like a kitten. He was disgusting to look at; his skin was as pale as the glue Harry had used as a child, his eyes were solid black, no white visible. His ears were fleshy and pointed, their ends drooping. His teeth were huge; they had eroded his lips over time, and one of them was shaped almost like a walrus' tusk.

If the creature had been difficult for Harry to see, it was evident that insects had no such trouble. Flies buzzed around his feet and over his clothing, such as it was. His clothing looked like nothing so much as a black potato sack, with stains that looked almost sticky.

"What the hell is that?" Ron asked under his breath.

Charlie responded, "This is what you were looking for." He tore back a shred of the sack, and pointed at the shoulder. Harry really didn't want to look more closely at the thing, but he did anyway. There was an inverted cross on its shoulder, inside an upside-down five-pointed star.

"Where's the girl?" Harry asked roughly.

The creature looked at him. It looked terrified, but there was something almost mesmerizing about its eyes. Harry quickly put a shield charm between them, and the effect lessened. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't totally different from magic.

It seemed to know that its powers weren't working. It shrieked, but Charlie shook it. "Answer the question, or I'll tie you down on the park bench and let you wait for dawn."

"I'll take you there," it said in a rough voice. Harry couldn't think of it as a 'him'; he'd seen more humanity in Buckbeak or a Blast-Ended Skrewt than he saw in this... thing.

It shambled along. Once, it started to fade from view, but Charlie rapped it across the head, and it returned.

It took it almost an hour to reach a warehouse. It pointed, "In there."

Harry looked at Charlie, "Do you think this is a trap?"

Charlie nodded, "Probably."

"Wands out, then," Ron said, and Harry winced. Those words again. He hoped they weren't an omen.

Charlie pulled off his belt, and tied their prisoner to a lamppost. "If you try to run, we'll find you," he said. The prisoner nodded fearfully.

"Well, then," Tracy said, and she started to run at the door. She hit it with her shoulder, and it fell in with a crash. Charlie was right after her, with Ron and Harry right behind. They had curses on their lips, but they didn't see any targets for them.

"There's nothing here," Ron said after a moment.

"Don't speak so soon," Tracy said, sniffing. She picked up a table and swung it wide into what looked like empty space. With a crash, it splintered into dozens of pieces, and Harry saw two more of the undead huddled together. They looked equally as disgusting as the one outside, with strangely shaped teeth. One was missing its nose.

Tracy reached out, and Harry saw that her fingernails looked more pointed than he'd noticed before. She swung, and tore into one of the undead. It crashed to the ground, with a weak spray of blood. The other was shrieking in terror.

"We need to question them!" Harry shouted.

"No, we don't." Charlie said softly. "I can smell them... there are four women under there." He pointed to a solid steel square that lay on the ground. "They're still alive."

At his words, Tracy attacked the other, and it, too, fell to the ground.

Charlie walked over to the metal square, and flexing his muscles, lifted. The square raised several inches above the ground, and then moved as he pushed it, uncovering a pit that had probably been used for servicing automobiles, judging by the closed garage door in the wall nearby.

There were, indeed, four women inside, all of whom looked like they were in comas. "They'll survive," Tracy said, "Just get them to a doctor."

Ron was looking at them closely. "She's not here."

"What?" Charlie asked, looking at him sharply.

"She's not here. This is Katie, and these are the other two that had disappeared recently, and I've never seen this one before in my life. She's not here."

Charlie cursed. Tracy let him go on for a few minutes, then interrupted. "We need to get these people to medical attention, quickly. Where can we take them? Is there a hospital nearby?"

Ron turned his nose up, "You mean one of those places that Muggles take their sick? Those superstitious quacks? I don't think so."

"St. Mungos'?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded.

"I'll go get an extraction team," he said quickly, and Disapparated. Tracy and Charlie grabbed the corpses of the vampire assailants.

"What are you doing?" Harry looked on in disbelief.

"We can't let them be found, and you can't say anything about us. Weren't you listening?"

Harry hadn't really thought about it. He wasn't tracking right now; he was still back on the realization that Hermione wasn't here. He just stood there dumbly as they dragged the corpses outside. Then he heard a shout, which sounded like Charlie, but didn't sound like anything he'd heard a Weasley say before. Probably because it was an anatomically impossible suggestion, and possibly because of Molly's influence.

Harry ran out the door. "What's wrong?"

Charlie pointed -- the lamppost was unoccupied, his belt in parts on the floor.

Harry echoed Charlie. "Well, we'll have to get him later. Get out of here... Ron should be back soon."

Charlie nodded, and looked up at the top of the warehouse. He leaped what must have been thirty feet straight up. Harry saw him standing there next to Tracy for a moment, and then they both backed away from the edge of the roof.

Harry whistled under his breath, and then heard the sound of small thunder-cracks inside. He walked back into the warehouse, and saw Ron supervising as emergency crews loaded people onto stretchers. Ron looked happy to see Harry. He motioned him over.

"Did you say anything?" Harry asked in a whisper.

Ron shook his head, "No, and I won't."

"What are we going to do about Hermione?" Harry asked urgently.

"I'm not sure, but I think we need more information," Ron said. "I know Charlie doesn't think he can tell us anything, but he's going to need to, if we're going to do anything about this."

One of the Healers came over to Ron, interrupting their discussion. "You got them just in time. One of them wouldn't have lasted another night. I don't suppose you'd know what happened?" The Healer looked like he was middle-aged, but fairly worn, probably a result of too many late nights rescuing wayward witches and wizards. He wore a white robe that reached his feet.

Ron answered, "I'm not sure. We were tracking down a Dark Wizard who was suspected of being an Animagus, and found them."

"An Animagus?" the Healer responded.

"He turns into a really big vampire bat," Ron said solemnly, and Harry had to fight down the giggles.

"I see," the Healer said, gravely. "Well, we'll do what we can for them. I assume you'll want reports to your office?"

Ron nodded.

"We'll be going then, and we'll leave the crime scene to you."

Ron nodded again, and watched as they left, small thundercracks echoing in the darkened warehouse.

Moments later, Charlie and Tracy walked in, whistling softly.

Ron leveled his wand on his brother. "I don't care what Mum does to me, I swear I'll turn you to dust if you don't tell us everything right now."


	6. Revelations

**Chapter Six - Revelations**

Charlie breathed inward sharply. "I can't do that, Ron."

Harry pointed his wand at Charlie, although he kept an eye on Tracy. "You don't have a choice. We need to find Hermione."

"There's nothing that I can tell you that will help."

Harry answered quickly, "I think we may need to be the judge of that. You can use a memory charm on me later, if you have to, but we need to find her."

Tracy looked at him, a gleam in her eye, "So, what's with you and this girl, anyway?"

Ron snickered, "We've all been trying to find that out since second year."

Harry glared at Ron, "I'm not the one that asked her to the ball in fourth year."

"Well, you should have been," Ron said. "If she'd said yes to me, she would have been just as miserable as the Patil sisters. Besides, she never kissed me."

Harry flushed, "That was just in friendship. She was just happy to see me."

Ron shrugged, "I don't know how many times I wished she was that happy to see _me_._"_

Harry retorted, impatiently, "That doesn't matter now. We need to find her, and we need to know what we're dealing with."

Charlie nodded, "Okay, but we can't talk about this here."

Ron pulled another small box out of his pocket. "I thought you might say that."

"A Port-key? Where to this time?" Harry asked.

"A vacant room at St. Mungo's. I asked them for it when I was getting the Healers, before. I thought we might need it before we were done."

Charlie looked at him appraisingly, "I'm surprised, Ron. That was a great bit of thinking."

Harry nodded, "Well, he was always the chess master. As long as he doesn't have to deal with emotions..."

Tracy chided him. "From what I hear, he's not alone in that."

"If you're through discussing my shortcomings," Ron interrupted, "Can we get back to business? There are only a few hours until daylight, after all." He flipped open the box, and they saw a small brass cross. Harry noted absently that the cross reflected both Tracy and Charlie; wasn't there something about mirrors? He'd have to ask later.

"All together now," he commanded, and they all reached in together. A moment later, they all vanished.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The room was completely empty, except for a small pallet. Ron reached over and locked the door. "So," he began, "What's all this about?"

"War," Tracy said, succinctly.

"What?" Ron and Harry chimed in together.

"You remember how I said that we usually avoid open warfare between our groups?"

Ron and Harry nodded obediently.

"Well, this is the exception. We know where something is that they want, they know we have it, and they want to kill us for it."

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Let's see if we can avoid that for now," Charlie said delicately, "The point is, if they get it, they win."

"So, how does your side win?" Ron asked.

"We don't," Tracy answered. "We can't use it... we won't use it." She was looking down, her large, liquid eyes showing hidden depths.

"Don't you have some sort of goal? Other than not being an entree?" Ron asked, disbelieving. "You can't mean that you're just playing for a stalemate."

"We don't have a choice," Charlie said. His jaw was set in Weasley stubbornness.

"Don't be an idiot," Ron stated bluntly. "There's always a choice."

"I've told you there isn't," Charlie responded, "We're wasting time. I've already told you..."

Ron interrupted, "We came to a secure location so you could break the news to us that you have something, somewhere, that someone wants, and you can't do anything about them. That's a real help, Charlie, thanks." Ron's tone was sarcastic. His voice held a clear challenge, not the complaint of a child to his elder, but the statement of an adult to his equal.

Charlie's response to the challenge was extreme. His nostrils flared, his lips lifted to bare his not-inconsiderable canines, and his hair started to stand up. Before he could say a word, it was clear that he didn't intend to let others challenge him. Harry knew this wouldn't end well, but he stepped between the two of them before Charlie could speak, holding his hands out against their chests.

"That's enough. If I have to get your Mother here to referee things, I will, but you had better not make it necessary. Give us a straight answer, Charlie. What do they want, and why can't we do something about it permanently?" Harry tried to be the voice of reason, usually Hermione's job, but he wasn't going to explore that thought right now.

Charlie took a step back. Tracy was by his side, now, holding his hand tightly. He seemed to be breathing deeply, cooling down. Ron's expression hadn't changed. His jaw was stone, his eyes ice. It was obvious he knew that he'd been close to a physical confrontation with his brother, and his own anger was evident. Charlie seemed to be studying his younger brother, and he seemed to nod slightly at what he saw.

Harry put his hands down, looking between the two of them. They were just breathing, but Charlie finally spoke. "Well, then. If you insist."

He continued, not quite meeting his brother's eyes in what seemed to be almost a gesture of submission. "They're trying to get the Dubh-Sgòrr. It's a Druid Stone."

"A what?" Ron asked.

"A Druid-Stone. A really big pointed rock, which in this case has some power to it. Look, I'm not going to go into the History of Magic, but there are a few things that Binns never taught, and one of them is how much magic you can put into a really big rock."

"You're telling me that our friend is in danger because of a piece of shale?" Harry asked, his eyebrows lifted. "And you weren't going to tell us about it?"

"It's not that simple," Charlie said. He was silent for a few moments, and then he admitted, "Well, it's almost that simple. It isn't shale, though. It looks more like obsidian."

"I'm sorry I asked," Harry replied. "What do they want this stone for?"

"It's hard to walk around some parts of the UK without running into a bunch of standing stones, or what's left of them. Stonehenge is just the most famous one, but there are quite a few around Scotland. You know what most of them were for, right?"

"Predicting weather?" Harry asked.

"Doing magic?" Ron guessed.

"You're both right," Charlie confirmed. "They used some of them as just big calendars, but many of them had magical significance. Well, there's one in particular in Scotland that no one cares much about any more. Most of the stones have been carried off, and all that's left are a pair of boulders. That's enough, though, if they find the missing stone that goes in the middle. The spot is tied to a form of ritual magic that hasn't been seen in ages." Seeing the boredom on the faces of the younger men, Charlie cut to the chase. "It can turn off the Sun."

"What?" Ron and Harry reacted visibly.

"Well, not exactly turn it off. But it should cut off most of Great Britain from the Sun."

"That sounds real useful," Ron snorted. "Do they have one for Seattle? I hear they really need one of those things. Charlie, I know you haven't seen the Sun lately, but you know what? Neither have I. We. Live. In. England." He annunciated each word patiently, as if he was talking to a particularly difficult child.

Charlie continued patiently. "Vampires like us don't just hate daylight, we can't operate while the Sun is up. It's not a matter of whether or not it's cloudy outside. Or, around here, just how cloudy it is. If they activate the rocks, we'll be free both day and night. I'll admit it won't be as obvious as if it were somewhere like California, but that's part of the point. Don't you see? Vampires will be able to walk the day as well as the night."

"So, that's bad for us," Harry confirmed, "Why don't you want to use it?"

"Because, we're not into wholesale slaughter," Charlie said. "If the stone is returned, Carnifex and his gang will feast."

"So, again, the stone's bad news," Harry repeated. "Why can't you get rid of it?"

"The boulders are warded and guarded by Carnifex' men, so we can't go after them. The rock, we hid. It's a really big rock, and it's resistant to most magic. We can't seem to find a way to blow it up."

"Can we make him think we have?" Ron asked. "I mean, would Carnifex know you can't destroy it?"

Charlie hesitated for a minute. "You know, he might not. We'd still need to find a way to hide it, though."

"We can worry about that later," Harry said. "We've had some experience with things being hidden. For now, assume that we can fool Carnifex into thinking that we can destroy it. How do we use that?"

"We send him a message," Ron said grimly. "We tell him we'll exchange the stone for Hermione, and that we'll destroy it if she's hurt. Then we make him think we've destroyed it anyway."

"He's not going to trust us," Charlie answered. "And we can't trust him. I don't want him to even lay eyes on the stone."

"Then don't let him," Ron shrugged. "You know what it looks like, right?" Charlie nodded, and Ron continued, "Then just transfigure something to look like it. We can destroy whatever it is after that point."

Charlie nodded. "That might work. We'll need something big, though. Something that weighs about a half-ton."

Tracy smirked, "I think I can help with that."

Ron gave a curt nod, "Good, then we just need to find a way to meet with him. What do you think?"

"Would he recognize the rock?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Charlie confirmed, "He's got an old photograph of it."

Harry replied, "So, let's just be very obvious about it. He knows where I live, he's probably got half a dozen vampires watching it."

"You know, if that's true, we probably could have just asked them in the first place," Ron said. "We didn't need to mess with chasing down the abductors."

Everyone looked at him, open-mouthed. He shrugged, "Alright, forget I said anything."

"So," Harry asked, "Is there anything else we should know about him, or about defeating vampires in general? I mean, I noticed that the whole mirror thing was a legend, what about crosses, stakes through the heart, that sort of thing."

Charlie looked at him in disbelief. "Don't you think it's a little cold-blooded, talking about killing us like that?"

Ron snorted. "You're one to talk about cold-bloodedness."

"Enough!" Tracy nearly shouted. "You know, I think one Weasley at a time is just about enough."

"I tend to agree," Harry said, looking at Ron, who seemed to be more ready to verbally spar with his brother than to resolve their problem. "But I'm still interested -- what can we do if we run into Carnifex? Am I going to have to shoot him and incinerate him again?"

"Well, we don't like fire, much," Charlie reluctantly confirmed, "and most of Carnifex's folks have some of the traditional weaknesses, and you know, mirrors and all that stuff."

"Silver bullets?" Ron asked.

"No, that's werewolves. They do hurt, though, especially if you get us somewhere sensitive."

"Well, that's something," Harry said. "You said most of Carnifex's people had those weaknesses. How about him?"

"He's got the whole ## gamut," Charlie confirmed. "The most vain vampire in the world, and he can't look in a simple mirror."

"I think I can use that," Harry said, "when we've got Hermione back. But that's the focus right now, not the stone, agreed?"

Ron nodded instantly, but Charlie and Tracy were both a few steps behind. Harry would take their agreement, even if it was reluctant, because he knew there was no way he would get her back without them.


	7. A Rescue

**Chapter Seven - A Rescue**

Harry walked out of his apartment. He was shivering from the cool air as much as from his nervousness at what they were going to try. They had returned to his apartment together so that they could be seen leaving, except for Ron, who would meet them at their destination.

Harry was dressed entirely in black. He was wearing a long leather trench coat that Ron had found for him and a pair of dark black leather boots. His shirt was a shiny black color, which nicely matched his pants, at least as far as he could tell.

Tracy walked next to him, and Harry knew the vampire was clearly the more dramatic of the pair. While Harry walked, Tracy strode purposefully. Harry fidgeted slightly, trying to push up the sleeves on his coat, or scratching at the day's growth of beard on his neck. Tracy's look betrayed nothing but purpose.

Behind them, there was a sudden shriek, the sound of the neighbor's car alarm. It silenced almost as quickly as it sounded, however, and Harry saw the old Volkswagen swing around them and peel down the street, Charlie behind the wheel. Harry thought he saw shapes going from rooftop to rooftop pursuing the small vehicle, but when he looked at them directly, they seemed to vanish.

Tracy suddenly broke into a run. While this was part of the plan, Harry was still shocked by how fast the vampire was able to push herself to full speed. Harry pushed himself to chase her, but was having trouble keeping up. He had expected that the vampire would have no trouble outperforming him, but there was more that he hadn't expected. His side was starting to cramp, and his legs were burning, but that wasn't the surprise.

The surprise was that he was enjoying it. Harry hadn't felt like this since his last year at Hogwarts. Even Quidditch hadn't given him this sort of thrill in a long time. The pain, the pressure that he was experiencing, it was a part of him that he hadn't remembered.

Harry saw shapes jumping on the rooftops nearby them. He hoped that they had been unable to keep up with Charlie, or that they'd abandoned the chase. If they were with Charlie when he reached the park, they wouldn't be fooled. Harry hoped that the little foot race that he and Tracy were engaged in would keep them occupied long enough for Ron to finish his transfiguration.

Tracy turned sharply down an alley, and Harry trailed after her. He was wheezing, but it felt good, like he was truly alive again. They cut right down the next street. Harry heard a thud behind him, but didn't look back. He couldn't afford to take the time, or worse, to take his eyes off of where Tracy was leading.

They finally reached the park. In the middle of the grass, surrounded by streetlights, a large black stone was floating. It seemed to have gray runes etched into it. Tracy skidded to a stop, turning around, and Harry stopped next to her.

Half a dozen vampires were behind them, but they slowed, rather than immediately confronting them. They seemed awed by the stone. One of them, a tall, gangly vampire with four studs in each of his ears, fell to his knees.

Charlie shouted from the middle of the park. "Tell your boss that we want the woman back before dawn, or the stone will be destroyed."

One of the vampires howled in obvious dismay. Another moved towards Tracy, but she hissed at him. "Don't try anything, or the rock gets it."

They suddenly started to fade back into the distance. They were running into the streets as fast as they could. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He actually thought this might work. His arms started to shake as the adrenaline wore off, but he tried to keep himself attentive. He'd had barely any sleep in days, and had been moving constantly all day, but he couldn't stop now. Hermione needed him.

Harry breathed in suddenly. Tracy looked at him with concern, "What's wrong? I hope I didn't run you too hard, eh?" She had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"No, I just realized something."

"Anything I should be concerned about?" Charlie asked, walking up to them.

"No, I don't think so," Harry's voice sounded distant, even to himself, and Charlie was concerned.

"Are you alright? You've gotten us this far, you can sit it out from here if you need to."

"No, it's nothing to do with that. I can handle this. I just saw something I should have seen years ago."

Ron chuckled. Harry hadn't even seen him approach. "Looks like Fred and George owe me some money."

Harry looked daggers at him. The wind whistled between them, and Harry had to concentrate on calming down. His lack of sleep had apparently taken its toll on his control.

Ron backed up. "Look, I'm not saying anything you don't already know, right?"

Harry nodded, and looked down. "Yeah, I know. I care about her, okay? I've said it. I love Hermione Granger, are you satisfied?"

A deep voice came from what seemed like nowhere. "I am. Now I know why you would be willing to trade something so valuable for someone so common."

Harry stared, and where there had been empty space a moment ago, there was a vampire now. The new arrival was taller than Ron. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, which was revealed to great effect by his white tank top, which matched his white leather trousers. His hair was blonde, cut short. His face was narrow, a disturbed expression on his face. There was nothing that explicitly showed the man to be a vampire, but somehow it never occurred to Harry to doubt it.

"I've heard of you," the man said, looking at Harry. "You're that Potter chap."

"You're that Carnie, right?" Harry responded, a little thrown by the sudden appearance of their foe. He hoped to shake him back, but the vampire didn't seem interested in their verbal sparring.

"I'm the one who has your friend... or more than friend, apparently. How are we going to make this trade?"

"Simple," Charlie answered. "Bring the girl here. You've already got the park surrounded, we aren't going anywhere."

"She's already here," Carnifex answered, holding his left arm up. A pair of vampires started to walk forward towards the park, holding Hermione between them by her arms, her feet dragging slightly on the ground. "She's alive," Carnifex confirmed. "The rock?"

"Take it," Charlie said magnanimously. "Just give her to us."

Carnifex waved his hand forward, and the vampires brought Hermione forward, laying her down on the ground. She wasn't moving. "Take the rock," Carnifex said, not turning his head. The two of them walked towards the rock. Harry rushed over to Hermione. "Are you alright?"

She mumbled something under her breath, but she seemed to be alive. Harry took a deep breath, and wrapped his hands around her. He lifted her off the ground gingerly, and walked towards the other three, who were still standing there, watching Carnifex. He felt Charlie's hand on his shoulder, and smiled. Carnifex's face twisted in a look of realization a moment before Ron's shout sounded from next to them, "_Reducto_!" There was an explosion behind Harry, the sound of the false stone being shattered. Carnifex was moving faster than Harry would have thought possible, straight for him. His claw reached towards Harry's face, but instants before it reached him, Harry felt a cold feeling from right behind his naval, and space twisted, leaving him in the empty room at St. Mungo's.

Harry almost collapsed. They had made it safely. He somehow found the effort to walk Hermione out of the room and into the arms of a waiting Healer before he collapsed on a bed himself. They had made it.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue - Forced Recognition**

Harry slept fitfully. He kept waking up and looking at the bed across the room from him, where Hermione lay unconscious. The Healers said that she'd lost a lot of blood and had serious psychic trauma, but they seemed to think that she would recover. They had asked him to sleep here for now under observation, his exhaustion evident to anyone who saw him.

Harry sighed loudly, and gave up on sleep, despite how desperate he was for it. He loved Hermione. The thought felt good. He couldn't believe that it had taken this long for him to realize it, or that it had almost taken her death for it to happen.

She sighed, and moved slightly in her sleep. Harry sat up. Could she be waking? The Healers hadn't volunteered when asked how long it would take. Harry stood up from his bed and walked over to her side. He knelt by her side, tousling her hair.

Her eyes opened slightly, and she looked up at him. Then her eyes opened farther. "Harry?"

"Shh, you're alright now," he said softly.

"Oh, Harry, it was so terrible. Those people... they weren't human!"

"I know, I know. It will all be all right. You're safe now."

"No, none of us are safe! Unless... tell me you didn't give it to them, Harry. Tell me that they don't have what they wanted."

"No, it's somewhere safe."

"They said you were going to trade it for me, that they'd kill me if you didn't give in, but I knew you wouldn't do that. I knew you wouldn't let people like that have anything that they wanted, even for me."

"If it had been the only way... I would have done anything," he admitted. "But we couldn't have trusted them anyway. They would have just turned on us the second they had it."

"What did you do?"

"Well, we transfigured my neighbor's Volkswagen so it looked like what they were looking for."

"You did what? Isn't that, well, slightly against the rules?"

"I would have done anything, Hermione," Harry repeated, "I just hope they didn't catch on. We destroyed it before we ## Port-Keyed away. Carnifex might be angry with us, but he doesn't have the rock, and he doesn't have any reason to expect that it's still intact."

"So, where's the rock?"

"Well, I figured Albus might be able to help with that. He was pretty surprised to hear from me," Harry said, "but he agreed to hide it for us."

"Are you sure that's safe? What if Carnifex decides to get it?"

"I don't think Hogwarts is going to be found by the likes of him. Besides, even if he gets to Hogwarts, he won't get the Stone. It's hidden just like the Sorcerer's Stone was, back in our first year."

"And we managed to get to it. What makes you think he won't be able to?"

"It's inside the Mirror of Erised. Carnifex can't look at mirrors. Most of his followers can't. He can't get it out without someone who wants do it for him, and I don't think many people would agree to that."

"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed, with more feeling than he would have thought she would have been able to muster. He smiled tenderly.

"There's just one more thing I'm wondering about, Harry."

"What's that?"

"Why are you playing with my hair?"

---------------------------

The door to Draco's office door opened slightly, then closed. Draco looked up from his desk, looking into empty space. "Whomever you are, you aren't welcome without an appointment. Please vacate my office at once, or I will be forced to make you leave."

There was a shimmering in the air, like a heat haze. Black blotches formed from the air, coalescing, and then there was a person. He was of middle height, with a fairly non-descript face. He had a passive expression, one that seemed almost without life. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. He wore a dark single-breasted, two-button suit, pure black, with a black silk shirt. His cufflinks were black opals, and a black pin held his collar together at his neck. He didn't carry a wand, in contrast to Draco, who had his wand pointed straight at his intruder. His hands were out slightly from his waist, palms facing out, in a symbol of surrender.

The intruder spoke, his voice showing a neutral American accent, "I was a business associate of your father's, Mister Malfoy. Or should I call you Draco?"

"You may call me nothing. I have no business with any friend of my father's."

"I did not say I was a friend of your father's, merely that I had some business with him. He made certain payments to our association, in exchange for certain assurances." There was a certain nasal quality to the man's voice. Draco was relieved by it; it was one of the few aspects of the man that seemed other than pure vanilla.

Draco thought for a moment, and cocked his head as he replied, "What sort of assurances?"

"Non-aggression. Our... association... has historically been opposed to many that you call Magicals," the man's expression turned into a sneer. "We consider most of your kind to be a waste of valuable energies, that we could better use in other ways."

"I'm not sure that I understand..." Draco responded, caught off-guard by the man's statements. "You seemed to have nothing against becoming Invisible."

The man looked impatient. "That has nothing to do with magic. Now, to the point. We are willing to continue to leave your kind alone in Britain, in exchange for your continued isolation from those that you consider non-Magical. We understand that it may be politically impossible for you to continue to push for the sort of isolation that your father obviously desired, but we will expect you to _make it_ viable in the near future. We will also expect the usual payments. I'm certain that the contract will explain everything to your satisfaction." He gestured at Draco's desk.

"What contract?" Draco looked down. There was a tall stack of papers on his desk, cut in Muggle fashion. The writing was fine, barely readable, made up of small, typecast letters. "That document wasn't there before."

"Your grasp of the obvious is exceeded only by your father's," the intruder said dryly.

Irked, Draco looked down at the contract. He pointed his wand at them. "_Incendio_! You may tell your people that I am not interested in your contract."

The man's face twisted in anger. "Mister Malfoy, you have a choice. Do you want to continue to be the successful businessman that you are today? Do you want to continue to wear fancy clothes, to hold a position of power in your society? Or do you want to be remembered as the man who agreed to let your people fall?"

Draco sneered right back, "I have been threatened by better people than you."

The man's hands moved faster than Draco could see, and came up with a pair of Muggle pistols. Draco waved his wand, not even uttering an incantation, and a blaze of fire shot from it, burning the flesh across the man's face. The man didn't seem to notice. He raised his guns, firing at Draco in quick succession. The bullets bent sideways as they approached the desk, going around Draco and shattering the huge plate glass window behind him. He was glad that he had invested in a one-way permanent shield charm.

The man's face was burning, but he seemed oblivious. "Even if you survive me, more will follow," he said, his voice sounding unnaturally calm. Draco realized why as the flames sputtered out. The flesh was gone, but what was underneath was a passive skull of solid metal, with gleaming red eyes. Draco swore, but he realized that he had an out.

"Avada Kedavra!" Draco shouted, and the flash of green light from his wand was wonderful. The Killing Charm worked on almost anything, and the strange man was apparently no exception. He toppled over, his guns, their ammunition exhausted, toppling from his hands.

Draco sat back in his chair, and ran his hands through his hair. He knew the Aurors were already on their way, and hoped that the remains would satisfy them that he hadn't used the Killing Curse on another human.

A doubt still gnawed at him, though. Not about the curse -- he was still alive, and that was all he could ask for. About the contract. Should he have signed it? He wasn't sure, but looking at the strange intruder, he hoped that he hadn't made a terrible mistake.


End file.
